


Tales

by SoBeIt123



Series: Pathfinder [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoBeIt123/pseuds/SoBeIt123
Summary: This is going to end up being scenes I have written out, but aren't going to be in the main fic.Chapter One - Frigg receives two unusual guests at her inn.Chapter Two - Rochelle the RedChapter Three - What If?
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Pathfinder [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028065
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	1. Frigg

**Author's Note:**

> Stuff that I have on my computer that's not making it into the main fic. They've kind of been just...existing for a while, so I just decided to start posting them. These will vary in length and their not in any particular order.
> 
> This one takes place after Alduin is defeated, and just as the Civil War starts to kick into high gear.

The winter was almost deep enough for Frigg to pull out some of her thicker dresses, but the fire she had just started in the hearth was doing a good job at warding off the chill of the air. She hadn't been able to collect firewood during the blizzard that had blown through earlier, so her inn had been colder than usual for the past couple of days. Fortunately, most of her customers were Nords like herself, and had been perfectly comfortable in the chill.

The door opened, letting in a gust of cold air and snow. There were two people in the entrance, a tall Dark Elf and a petite Redguard. They were standing close to each other, likely because of the cold.

Frigga pushed pack her reflexive dislike of the Dark Elf - she was old enough to know that disliking someone because of their race was ridiculous, but growing out of childhood beliefs was easier said than done. She fixed a smile on her face and went through her usual innkeeper spiel about food, drink, and the like.

The Dark Elf's gaze met hers as she spoke, and she broke the stare after a moment. His gaze was unnerving - that bloody crimson was far too intent for her comfort.

"Could we have a room for.." He trailed off and considered his companion for a moment."...three days."

At this the woman shot the Dark Elf a very irritated look. She really was small for a Redguard - she barely came up to the Dark Elf's shoulder. Now that they were closer, Frigg could see that the Redguard was almost leaning on her companion for support and taking in deep measured breaths.

Perhaps they had run afoul of something? Well, that wasn't her business.

"Would you like one room, or two?"

"One."

"I can only offer you a room with one bed."

"That's perfect."

Lovers then?

"One room for three days will be 27 septims."

The Redguard, whose face was looking suspiciously blank which didn't bode well for the Dark Elf, shuffled through her lovers satchel before counting out the appropriate amount of coin.  Frigg collected them before continuing. "I'll be serving dinner soon if you would like me to bring something to you."

"That would be wonderful." The Dark Elf paused for a moment, before adding, "Would you bring a tankard of water, as well?"

That was an interesting request, but easily done. People usually only wanted warm mead at this time of year. "Of course. Your room is the third one on the left."

With that, The Dark Elf collected the room key, before leading the way to their room. Frigg was right - he was supporting nearly all of his lovers' weight as they walked across the room.

Frigg clasped her hands in a brief prayer to Kynareth for the Redguard's health, before getting to cooking dinner for her guests.

* * *

Frigg loaded a tray with two bowls of soup, a couple of tankards of mead, and a tankard of cold water. The Dark Elf and the Redguard were her last stop for the night. After that, her blessedly warm bed awaited her.

Tray secure in her grip, she approached their room only to hear a woman's - presumably the Redguard's - voice. At least she thought she was a Redguard - her voice held an accent that Frigg had never heard before.

" - stay for three days."

"I almost had to carry you into the inn."

"You're on a time crunch, Relthreyn."

"They've waited for him to pick a side since the beginning, they can wait three days longer."

There was silence for a few moments, before the Redguard's voice sounded out again. "I've done more with worse."

"That doesn't mean that you have to."

Figuring that she should stop eavesdropping, Frigg used her foot to tap on the door. The conversation stopped, and the door was pulled open after a few moments. 

“‘Two bowls of potato soup, two tankards of ale, and water.”

The Dark Elf - Relthreyn - inclined his head in thanks. The sleeves on his tunic rode up slightly as he reached for the tray, revealing some peculiar scars on his arms. They were jagged and irregular, like lighting bolts.

As she closed the door to give the two privacy, she saw the woman again. She was on the bed, with the furs and blankets pulled tight around her body. She looked pale even through her dark complexion.

A scarred Dark Elf and a sickly Redguard. She wondered how the pair came to travel together - it was bound to be an interesting story.

* * *

Frigg didn’t give much thought to the duo over the next few days. She saw them outside of their room maybe thrice over most of their stay.. She wasn’t exactly opposed to that though. 

When she was younger and stupider, she had decided to hunt down a nest of vampires. She survived it - barely. But what had stuck with her was how the vampires felt. No matter their human guises, there was something viscerally unsettling about them. She knew, on an instinctual level, that she was in the presence of a predator.

The Dark Elf gave her the same feeling. She didn’t think he was a vampire, but there was something off about him. Whatever it was, the Redguard didn’t seem to feel it. The few times she had seen her, the other woman appeared perfectly at ease.

Frigg squinted her eyes as the sun kissed the horizon, sending glimmers against the ice.  She was on an early morning firewood run. She needed to get as much as possible in her inn before the next blizzard howled through. Thankfully the miller charged less if she cut it herself.

She was about to carry her first stack of firewood to her inn when she heard a roar. A winged shadow fell over the town, and Frigg looked up to see a dragon.

She had never seen a dragon up close before. She knew that they were fearsome creatures, but this was terrifying.  It wasn’t the size or power of the creature, but the intelligence in the beast's eyes that  frightened her.  It seemed to consider the area for a moment, before a blast of icy breath streamed from its great maw. Frigg dropped her firewood in her desperation to dodge the icy blast. She ran for her inn - her bow was on a barrel near the entrance. Terrifying beast or no, she was a Nord. She would fight as her forefathers did.

She notched an arrow, but when she made to shoot it, she saw that Dark Elf, his hands alight with fire magic. He had positioned himself in front of the beast, which started attacking him as the first firebolt impacted its scales. 

That idiot - he was going to get himself killed. Mages had no business being on the frontlines, they were too soft. 

She was about to yell at him to move when the Dragon Shouted. 

And then the Dark Elf Shouted back.

Talos above, Frigg could feel the words in her very bones.

The Elf went transparent - it was as if he became a spirit. He started to back towards the outskirts of the town, and the dragon followed.

Frigg shook herself out of her daze and fired her arrow. She could think about what just happened after the dragon was dead.

The fight that followed wasn’t something she could recall very well, but that had always been an issue for her in battle. She got lost in the tide of combat and in the battle-rage that it kindled within her. It was why she gave up adventuring after one to many close calls.

She didn’t even remember who had dealt the final blow, but she did remember the aftermath.

The dragon’s flesh had melted off of its bones into a burning halo of golden flame. The power  flowed through the air to the Dark Elf, who absorbed the stream of light.

Not the Dark Elf. The Dragonborn.

Despite herself, Frigg couldn’t help but feel a tinge of awe. She had heard the stories of the Last Dragonborn. Everyone had. She generally took things like that with a grain of salt, but this? This was something straight out of her people’s legends. More than that, this was the one who had defeated the World-Eater. Why wouldn’t she marvel at the sight in front of her?

She saw someone push their way to the front of the awestruck crowd that had gathered at the spectacle. 

It was the Redguard. 

The woman made a beeline for the Dragonborn and cast a healing spell on him, before speaking with a scowl on her face.

The two had a brief, but heated conversation, uncaring of their audience. The Redguard spoke softly, but gesticulated wildly before she poked the Dragonborn firmly in the chest. He wrapped one of his hands around her wrist, before saying something very quietly back. 

It was that very human interaction that broke her out of her wonder. 

For all of the legends and stories of power, it seemed that the Dragonborn was a man just like everyone else. 

Quietly, Frigg slipped out of the crowd and walked back to her inn. She pushed open the door of the now deserted building and hunted down a quill, ink and a small piece of paper . She crawled out a note, before counting out 27 septims and pouring them into a spare coin purse and set the items on the chest at the base of the Dragonborn and the Redguard’s bed.

She wasn’t the type to fawn over anyone, not even a living legend. But she could offer them a free place to stay when they were passing through. 

Then Frigg walked out into the sunlight to see what she could do to help rebuild her town. 


	2. Rochelle the Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super Short. Only 839 words.

This woman was the strangest prisoner Rochelle had even taken.

She was sitting quite sedately in her cell, not a hint of the usual panic or fear that past prisoners had expressed. Her back was to the wall of the cave, and she was fiddling with a silver ring on her right hand.

Even taking her from that Manor had been abnormal. The woman had politely greeted them, though she refused to give her name, even when threatened. She hadn’t put up a fight either. She had just stared at them for a few moments, before sighing and not resisting. She hadn’t said a word through the entire trip to the hideout, hadn’t reacted to any of the taunts or lewd remarks, and just generally acted like she was perfectly unbothered by what was happening to her.

Annoyed with the other woman's attitude, Rochelle jerked her chin at Crottus, one of her underlings. He nodded in return before unlocking the cell door, and stepping in with the still unbothered woman, though she had stood up at his approach.

Rochelle watched in anticipation - maybe the damn woman would finally react to something. 

She would step in before things went too far, of course. She couldn’t have the woman dying before she got her payment.

That was where things went completely off script. Usually, a prisoner would end up cowering when Crottus roughed them up a bit, whether they tried fighting back or not. Crottus was a very intimidating man, what with his sheer size and many battle scars. Fear was an effective deterrent for rowdy hostages, and the beating had the added effect of rendering the prisoner physically unable to escape. While they were out of commission, she would have her underlings strip the prisoner of any valuables on their person.

The woman tensed as Crottus got closer to her, and then hit him with a brightly coloured spell in a lightning-fast motion. Crottus stepped back, an expression of terror appearing on his face before he shook it off. But he was a second too late - the woman’s fist lashed out and she landed a hit on his unprotected throat. He stumbled out of the cell, gasping for air.

Her hands glowed blue, and an azure barrier of light sprung up an inch behind the cell bars.

She was a _mage?_

The woman stared at her through the azure barrier, and spoke in a near-whisper.

“The only reason I went along with this is because I would have ended up here no matter what I did. I can’t win a fight against all of you, but I’m perfectly capable of killing anyone who walks into this cell. I suggest you leave me be.”

With that, she resumed her previous position and set about ignoring everyone around her, though the azure barrier stayed.

Unnerved, Rochelle retreated from the hall to see if Crottus was going to survive, or if she needed to find a new recruit.

She couldn’t wait to get that money and be done with this entire affair.

* * *

It seemed that the gods were smiling upon her, because only took a few hours for that damn woman’s lover to show up. The Dark Elf was clearly unhappy with the state of affairs, and he cut straight to the point before she could even speak.

“Where is she?”

Rochelle smirked. This was always the best part - getting her pay.

“Safe and sound. For now. Where’s my money?”

The Elf pulled out a fat looking purse of septims. Greed flashed through her heart as he held it, irritation with the man’s lover entirely forgotten at the sight of the gold.

“Toss it over.”

“Gladly. As soon as I see her.”

Usually, she would have the prisoner out here with her to avoid this very conversation, but the damn woman hadn’t let down the barrier. No matter, she could make her drop it with the Dark Elf in there. 

“After you.”

The Elf shot her a murderous look but entered into the hideout before her.

As she expected, the woman’s barrier was still going strong. In all honesty, Rochelle was looking forward to making the woman drop it - these past few hours had been some of the most irritating in her life.

At the sight of the hostage, the Dark Elf tossed the bag of septims into Rochelle’s direction.

The woman smiled at the sight of her lover - the first expression she made since she got here.

She was the one to speak first.

“You were right, this really isn’t too difficult to keep up.”

Rochelle ignored the both of them and weighed the bag in her hands - she would have to keep them both here while she counted, but then they would both go free. After she and her crew roughed them up a little, of course.

That was when the Dark Elf Shouted.

Rochelle barely had time to draw her sword before a searing pain erupted in her neck and all went dark.


	3. What If?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if the Altmer died sooner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also super short 'cause I have a way to much shit to do right now for anything longer, and I honestly didn't want to go into more detail with this short. This, or something like this, would have been the last three scenes of chapter three if I had decided to take the story in this direction.
> 
> Warning for suicidal thoughts, murder, implied noncon, and implied dubcon. Naya is 100% Not Okay.

Naya knew that Sindrion was attracted to her. He wasn’t particularly subtle about it, but his ‘scientific curiosity’ seemed to override any compulsion he felt towards her.

She had grown aware of it soon after her capture. After all, lust was an emotion she had become very familiar in identifying as of late.

She found it repulsive in the beginning - she still did, but now things were different. 

Now being after the Altmer had died in her sleep.

As terrible as the thought was, this had been more bearable with others in the same situation. At this point, she knew that she couldn’t take much more of this. Conversely, some part of her felt glad that the Altmer had died. At least she wasn't here anymore.

If she was on the cusp of giving up, then she might as well  _ try _ to break free. She could live, and try her best to make her way in this world, or she could die and be with her friends. She didn’t particularly care which.

That brought her back to Sindrion.

He wanted her for more than just his research.

That was a good thing. She could use that.

* * *

She was laying in Sindrion’s bed beside the sleeping form of the man himself. She wanted to claw her own skin off.

Seducing Sindrion had been easier than she had foreseen, but it had felt even more disgusting than she had anticipated.

It seemed that he actually wanted a semi-willing bed-warmer, which was more than what could be said for the bandits. Semi-willing, because there was no way in hell that she could convince him that she wanted to be with him in any way, shape, or form, but she could - and did - convince him that she didn’t particularly care about what he did to her.

Which was what led her to this present moment.

She rolled over in the bed and reached for the dagger she now knew that Sindrion habitually kept on his nightstand.

The man’s intelligence only seemed to extend to magic, because only an idiot would keep a weapon within reach of a person they had spent the past however long torturing.

She grasped the hilt of the weapon and hesitated, staring at the slumbering form of Sindrion. The man was a pathetic excuse for a human being and the bandits actually managed to be worse than he. But what about herself?

She had seduced a man for the express purpose of killing him, and she was about to kill him, and many others in their sleep. Her motivations for the act didn’t change the reality of what she was about to do. And she wanted to do this more than  _ anything. _

What did that say about who she was now?

She stared at his slack features for a moment longer before driving dagger into his throat.

* * *

She observed more than experienced killing the rest of the bandits. She felt as though her body was slowly becoming divorced from the rest of her being as she crept through the halls, methodically checking each room before moving on. 

She got lucky, for one. They must have been having a celebration for something because all of them were either sleeping or passed out drunk. It made driving her dagger through their flesh rather easy.

Distantly, she noted that her body was splattered with blood, though she couldn't feel it. She couldn’t feel much of anything right now.

She stopped as she reached the mouth of the cave. She was almost disappointed that she had made it - she half-hoped that she would be killed by one of the bandits as she made her way out.

But she had promised herself that she would live if she made it through this, so live she would.

She walked out of the cavern and into the light of day.


End file.
